Black Holes and Revelations
by LadyRhiyana
Summary: Assorted ST:XI drabbles and oneshots. Ch 2: Fragments: "You can't be real," Jim says to the ghost of everything he could have been.
1. The Matter of Lt Bailey

**The Matter of Lt. Bailey  
><strong>**Summary: **"Dammit Jim, he's just a kid," Bones argues. "A kid you promoted too early, who just couldn't live up to impossible expectations." A reboot!afterview of "The Corbomite Incident".

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><p>"Well, what's next?" Jim asks, at one of Spock's weekly briefings.<p>

Spock hesitates. It is so uncharacteristic that Jim looks up, concerned; some newborn captainly instinct tells him that he's not going to like what he hears next. "The matter of Lieutenant Bailey," Spock says.

"Ah, hell," Jim sighs. "You know Bones has made that kid one of his crusades."

"Indeed, Dr McCoy has been quite vocal on the matter."

"What was I supposed to do, Spock? He couldn't handle the pressure, and he cracked." Jim remembers the young navigator's frozen terror as Balok's deadline counted down, giving way to panicked ranting until Jim had finally relieved him from his post.

"I hope y'all aren't plannin' on keepin' me out of the loop on this one," a sardonic drawl interrupts them.

"Bones!" Jim jumps, startled. "Knock, next time."

Spock eyes the doctor with mild disfavour. "Indeed, Dr. McCoy. Had I known you wished to be kept informed of Mr Bailey's case –"

"Dammit Jim, he's just a kid," Bones argues, scowling, his eyebrows lowered belligerently. "A kid you promoted too early, who just couldn't live up to your impossible expectations."

"It is not a matter of expectations or pressure," Spock replies. "It is a question of fact. The _Enterprise_ is not a democracy, Doctor. Lieutenant Bailey questioned a direct order in a crisis situation, then gave into what I can only call hysteria. No captain can afford to overlook such behaviour."

"If we're talking of _facts,_ Mr Spock, don't forget that I warned the captain Bailey was unstable." He turns to Jim. "You asked too much of him, _Captain, _and he simply couldn't deliver."

They stand on either side of him like two angels on his shoulders, one grouchy and soft-hearted and all-too-human, and the other cold practicality and ruthless logic. And in the middle is Captain Kirk, the weight of responsibility on his shoulders alone.

He'd seen good things in Bailey, who at 24 years old and three years out from the Academy had more experience than most of Jim's crew. But Bailey had spent those three years on the _Artemis_ blockading and patrolling an assigned course along the Romulan Neutral Zone; he had no experience with deep space or the unexpected, and had missed the trial by fire that was the battle of Vulcan. The standards set by the Enterprise crew during that time were impossibly unfair to newcomers, but he'd thought Bailey could live up to it.

In a way, Jim had been proved right: after the shame of being summarily dismissed from his post, Bailey had found his backbone and returned to the bridge. But it had been too late the moment Jim sent him away.

The fact is that hesitation or carelessness out in space could endanger the Enterprise and everyone aboard her. The fact is – and Jim had learned this one the hard way – that a starship on active duty is not a training cruise, and the dangers of deep space make no allowances for youth or inexperience.

"Alright, Spock," he sighs, ignoring Bones' heavy scowl. "Start the disciplinary process."

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><p><strong>AN** – In the original TOS episode, Lieutenant Bailey redeemed himself by going with the alien ship as an impromptu ambassador of the Federation. I've always wondered what would have happened had he stayed on the _Enterprise_.


	2. Fragments

**Fragments  
><strong>**Summary:** "You can't be real," he says to the ghost of everything he could have been.**  
>Disclaimer – <strong>I don't own Star Trek, any of the canon characters, settings or situations.

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><p>Every now and then, it happens: from the corner of his eye he sees a blur, a flash of gold, and then James T. Kirk of Ambassador Spock's memory shimmers into existence. At first it was just a fleeting vision, the flash of a quicksilver smile; later, the apparition became increasingly real. Now, some twelve months after the mind meld on Delta Vega, Jim can't understand why no one else can see him.<p>

"You can't be real," he says to the ghost of everything he could have been. It's late at night, and Jim's alone in his cabin; there's no one around to see the captain talking to himself.

Captain Kirk – a stocky, handsome man in his prime, surrounded by a golden glow – gifts him with a warm, charming smile. Jim knows that chameleon smile. He's manufactured it himself, more than once. "Of course I'm not real," the figment of his imagination says. "What did you expect? You're the one who let a grief-crazed Vulcan into your mind."

"Then what are you? How can I talk to you – how can _you_ talk to _me_?"

"I suspect – though I'm not entirely au fait with Vulcan mysticism – that I am composed of fragments of the original Kirk's katra. Spock loved him rather dearly, you know."

Jim remembers the fleeting glimpses he'd caught, things the Ambassador had never meant him to see. "Yeah, I gathered that. But you – he – have been dead for more than eighty years. Surely –"

"Not Vulcans. They claim to be logical and dispassionate, but – well, you have first-hand experience." Captain Kirk grins. "So to speak."

Jim finds the thought of Ambassador Spock carrying around the last fragments of a dead man's soul for more than eight decades terribly sad. "You're not real," he says again. "But the Ambassador still couldn't let you go."

For the first time, the (ghost? katra? figment?) drops the high-voltage smile, and Jim sees through to the man underneath. "It's easy to despise false Edens when you're young and in your prime. When you're old and you have nothing left, it's not so clear-cut."

There's a whole lifetime of experience in that statement: grief and joy and hard-earned wisdom.

"Do you manifest to him like this?" Jim asks, before he can stop himself.

But the shrill, grating whistle of the intercom interrupts them, the duty communications officer's voice summoning the captain to the bridge. The ghost of his future-past fades away, leaving only half-forgotten glimpses of a past he'll never see.

Jim squares his shoulders, draws on his own charming smile, and focuses squarely on the here-and-now.


End file.
